


casting shadows

by Hevheia



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, rivals to idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29679477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hevheia/pseuds/Hevheia
Summary: By day, Joe sells antique, by night, Yusuf fights for the greater good and the wellbeing of all citizens. Everything goes perfectly well, until it doesn't. And all of that thanks to the handsome customer he'd accidentally fallen in love with and who turns out to be the last person Joe expected.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 48
Kudos: 66





	1. the shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter started out as a part of my duolingo prompt series, based on the prompt 'now he is just a normal citizen (Adesso è solo un cittadino normale)', and now it turned into a multi-chapter fic because i have no chill!
> 
> Enjoy!

In general, Yusuf likes being Joe. On some days, though, he feels like screaming. Only last night he was chasing down some stalker scum to teach them a lesson and make sure they would never even think of harassing anyone ever again, and now he is just a normal citizen. Just a face in the endless, dreary morning commute.

It’s even worse now the sun is out and he can feel his powers pulsing steadily beneath its heat. He wants to grab someone by the shoulders and yell his secret in their faces. Just so someone knows he’s doing it all for them.

Instead, he buries his hands deeper in his pockets and walks on.

A bell rings when he enters the antique shop. The Old Guard Antiques, it is called. It’s merely a facade of course, but to his surprise, Joe genuinely likes working there. He likes being surrounded by ancient and not so ancient objects. He loves walking around in the chaotic assortment of precious art pieces and absolute junk. He often wonders how Andy has gotten hold of all these things, but however sneakily he tries to coax it out of her, she always sees right through his schemes and merely shrugs.

He puts everything ready and turns the sign of the door around so the ‘open’ side is facing the street. He glances at the numerous grandfather clocks lining one of the walls. Booker is late. Maybe on a job Joe forgot about, so he guesses he’s on his own for today.

He’s staring at some lists with a lot of numbers he doesn’t understand much about because 1) this is usually Booker’s job and 2) he’s running on three hours of sleep and way too much caffeine, when the phone rings. He picks up immediately, grateful for the distraction.

“The Old Guard Antiques, with Joe, how can I help you?”

“I’ve got a job for you.” Andy.

“Hello to you, too,” Joe says, glancing about for customers, though the bell hasn’t made a sound yet all morning. He lowers his voice just to be sure. “And a job? So soon? I just finished the last one this night.”

He can barely hide his excitement, he quickly checks his free hand, making sure he doesn’t start glowing by accident.

“It’s urgent. We’ve got word that someone is after Lykon’s bracers.”

“Lykon’s bracers?” Joe’s happy mood sobers. Lykon was one of their team once. But the life of a superhero is never without danger. Things went terribly wrong on a mission a long time ago, and despite Lykon’s powers to heal, he hadn’t been able to use them on himself in time.

His bracers still hold fragments of his powers, though, just like Joe’s rings will when he dies. Every hero has such a token, and there are rumors it might grant the powers to someone else if used right. But so far, no one has tried yet. All superheroes agree that it’s simply too morbid and intruding.

“Yes.” Andy sighs. “I knew I shouldn’t have given them to the museum. They would’ve been safer with us after all.”

“Hey, boss, don’t beat yourself up. It was the best option back then. So, who’s after it?”

“Some rich megalomaniac called Merrick. You know, the usual. The theft is planned for this Friday. Booker is at the museum now to find a way to get you inside and get a layout of the building. He’ll be on it for the rest of the week so you’re on shop duty alone for a while.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll send you some more details you can look through. How did it go last night?

“It went well,” Joe answers, but it’s a tad too late and of course Andy notices.

“But?”

Joe sighs. “The Shadow showed up again. I had just gotten the culprit right where I wanted him, but when I rounded the corner, The Shadow had taken care of him already.”

“The guy’s good,” Andy says and the appraisal in her voice makes a spike of jealousy flash through his chest.

“Maybe you should ask him to join us, then,” he says and he hates how annoyed he sounds.

Andy chuckles on the other end. “Have to figure out who he is first.”

_Just some pretentious bastard thinking he’s too good to talk with other superheroes._ But Joe is tired of talking about him.

“So how are you and Nile? Have you found her yet?”

“No, no sign yet.” All mirth has left Andy’s voice and Joe’s heart clenches.

“It’s only a matter of time,” Joe assures her. “We’ll find her. Or she’ll find us again, she wouldn’t leave us like that.” _She wouldn’t leave you._

“Let’s hope so,” Andy says with a heavy sigh. “Gotta go, I’ll send you the information. Keep me updated, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss. Say hi to Nile from me.”

He’s breaking his head over the lists again when the chime of the door makes him startle.

His throat runs dry when he looks up, because the most beautiful man in all the universe has just entered the shop. Joe really shouldn’t be so dumbfounded by the man, because objectively speaking he is rather plain-looking with that simple haircut and those pants that are doing absolutely nothing for him, but still. Even like that, he has something incredibly mesmerising to Joe.

Maybe it’s the shoulders. Yeah, that must be it. How is it even possible to have such very broad, very strong-looking shoulders?

Joe pretends to look back at the lists for a while, but glances at the customer every now and again from the corner of his eye.

When Shoulder-man has been wandering around for some time and has been staring at those small angel statuettes for five minutes already, Joe decides he's allowed to offer his help to his customer. He slips from behind the counter and walks over to him.

“Good morning, sir, can I be of some assistance?”

Shoulder-man turns around and a small smile appears around his mouth when he sees Joe, melting Joe’s heart into a puddle.

“Maybe. I’m looking for a birthday gift for my nonna, but I don’t know which archangel she would like more.”

And to Joe’s surprise, the man goes on to explain the different meanings behind them which is incredibly fascinating - and not only because his hand gestures are so elegant and his eyes are alight with a passionate glow that Joe would describe as moonlight in one of his poems. And Joe is all too happy to chip in with his own knowledge of art and iconology.

They get so caught up in their conversation that Joe jumps when the grandfather clocks start their various announcements of the fact that it is twelve o’clock. The man startles too by the cacophony and glances at his watch.

“Oh, I should get going. I’ll take this one.” And he picks out Joe’s favorite.

He follows Joe to the cash register and pays.

“I am Joe, by the way,” Joe says when he’s wrapping the statue in bubble plastic to protect it.

“Nicky. Nice to meet you,” Nicky says and Joe can’t keep the wide smile from his face.

“We should do that again some time,” he says, gathering all his courage. “Talk, I mean, not necessarily buying or selling angel statuettes.”

Nicky laughs, and the little snort makes Joe’s heart jump to his throat. “Let’s grab some dinner then, when are you available?”

“Only Friday wouldn’t work for me,” Joe says.

“I can’t make it on Friday either, so let’s say Saturday? Here, let me get your number,” Nicky says and picks his phone from his pocket.

They exchange numbers and say their goodbyes, Nicky flashing a last smile at him from the door before leaving Joe helplessly lost behind his cash register.

***

_Focus, Yusuf!_ Yusuf chastises himself when his mind has wandered off to what he’s going to wear for his date tomorrow for what must be the millionth time. _You’re supposed to be watching out for a thief, focus!_

Yusuf takes a deep breath and scans the room again. He’s hidden in a very uncomfortable position against the ceiling, holding on to a pillar that grants him a view of the entire exhibition room. If he didn’t have his powers, there was no way he could have endured this position for so long, and while it would have been even easier if the sun was out, he manages.

The minutes are ticking by, no sign of a thief yet. The bracers are still safely in their display case beneath him.

Then there’s a movement, ever so slightly, by the windows. Yusuf’s eyes latch onto it, but it’s gone so soon that he almost thinks it’s a trick of his mind.

_Always trust your instincts,_ Andy told them over and over again. _Our minds don’t play tricks on us._

Sure enough, there’s another flutter in the shadows. No, not _in_ the shadows. _Of_ the shadows.

One of them is moving.

Joe curses inwardly, of course Merrick has hired the Shadow.

He waits for the Shadow to reach the display case. Then, when he reaches over the glass, Yusuf slides down right behind him. He reaches for him, letting out a sound of victory when his hands guess correctly and circle around the Shadow’s neck. He lets his hands glow, unleashing the heat he’s always containing.

Surprised by the sudden attack, the Shadow turns visible and Yusuf lets go of him as if he has burned himself.

He’s all clad in black, with a black version of a mask not unlike Yusuf’s own, but Yusuf would recognise the eyes peeking through it anywhere. Those eyes that are unmistakably glowing with moonlight now.

“Nicky?” Yusuf exclaims.

“Joe?”

Nicky seems just as confused as Yusuf who’s still looking him up and down as if he might change into someone else after all - and oh man, those tight pants are _definitely_ doing things for him and Yusuf understands why he wears such unfashionable pants in daily life.

Since Yusuf is too distracted by the pants, Nicky recovers faster.

“Sorry, but I really gotta take these,” he says and before Yusuf can make his muscles move again, Nicky already has the bracers in his hands and is dashing for the windows.

“Wait no!” Yusuf sprints after him, but Nicky wisps away into shadow-form again and slips through a slightly opened window.

“Nicky!” Yusuf screams after him. He opens the window wider - not alarming the guards be damned - and looks out over the city. But there’s no trace of Nicky.

His heart is pounding. Nicky, the beautiful man he is already head over heels with, is the Shadow. Not only is he the Shadow, but he has also stolen Lykon’s bracers for some capitalist asshole.

_Shit._

“Is our date still on tomorrow?” Yusuf calls weakly into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I already posted this on tumblr a while ago, the second chapter will be up soon, but after that I'll probably post weekly so I've got time to write the last couple of chapters!
> 
> I hope you liked this first chapter, kudos and comments are always appreciated ❤️


	2. the roof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Joe is stood up, Booker says sensible things and a trap is laid out.

Joe goes to the restaurant early. He waits outside. If Nicky doesn’t show up, then there’s no use for him sitting alone at a table for two the whole night, on display for everyone’s pity. 

He hasn’t slept, but he isn’t tired. His brain is still replaying the events of last night over and over again. Nicky suddenly appearing in front of him, eyes wide. Nicky with the bracers in his hands, running away and vanishing again in the night.

Nicky the Shadow. Fuck.

He needs answers. He needs information. He needs to get those bracers back before something terrible happens.

He also needs them back because he lied to Andy. _(Of course, boss, I took care of it. They’re as safe as they can be!)_ The thought of admitting the Shadow had bested him yet again had made his blood run cold. He won’t be outdone by the Shadow again. He refuses. He will set this right on his own.

He tried calling Nicky, but it instantly jumped to his voicemail. Nicky probably switched numbers already, maybe he even has another phone to make sure Joe can’t trace him.

With a sigh, he looks at the time. Two minutes later than the last time he checked. He’s been standing there for almost an hour already and it’s half an hour past their meeting time. He sighs. He’s already convinced Nicky won’t show up anymore, but still he waits for half an hour more.

Before he leaves, he scans the street left and right one more time for a broad-shouldered figure walking among the passersby and makes sure to check every shadow as well. Nothing. He shakes his head and stalks off, anger, disappointment and frustration burning in the pit of his stomach.

He’s too distracted to notice the extra shadow following him all the way home.

***

Since it’s a calm day in the shop, Joe decides to bring some much-needed order in the storage room. It gives him something to do with his hands and grants him an excuse to isolate himself so he can simmer in his self-reproach in peace.

When he turns around to pick up a box behind him and stands face to face with himself leaning against the doorway, he rolls his eyes.

“Very funny, Booker.”

“Oh, come on, Joe. Something’s been bugging you all day. I’m just trying to cheer you up.”

Joe stares him dead in the eye. “You still can’t get my nose right.”

“How would you know? You don’t see it as much as I do,” Booker retorts, but he frowns nonetheless. 

Damn, does he really have that many creases in his forehead?

He picks up another box and puts it on the shelf, turning his back to Booker. 

“Shouldn’t you go back to the shop?” he asks when Booker just keeps standing there.

“It’s noon, I’ve closed up for our lunch break. I wanted to come and get you to grab something to eat.”

Joe continues stacking the boxes back on the shelf. “You go eat, I’m finishing this up and I'll eat afterwards.”

“You can’t be serious,” Booker says with a disbelieving huff of laughter. “What’s going on with you, Joe? Was it your date this weekend? Did it go that bad?”

Joe puts the next box down with more force than necessary, causing the silverware inside to rattle. 

“So it _is_ the date,” Booker says infuriatingly. “What was it, did Mister Shoulders-For-Days turn out to be a weirdo? Or was he just very bad in bed?”

Joe balls his hands into fists by his sides to try and keep calm. The cardboard of the last box he touched has dark, burned handprints on it. 

“Did he have a strange fetish? Or did-”

“It was the Shadow!” Joe yells because he can’t stand it anymore, wheeling around to face Booker who changes back into himself from pure shock.

For a moment, it's as if all the sound is sucked out of the room. 

“But how would you know?” Booker asks eventually. “You’ve never seen the Shadow’s face.”

Joe’s shoulders slump, he rubs his eyes. “Except I have.”

“You have? When was tha- oh.” Booker’s eyes grow wide as the realisation hits.

Joe sits down on the ground, suddenly too exhausted to stand any longer. He lets his head fall back against the shelves behind him. “Yeah.”

“So you don’t have the bracers?”

“Nope.”

“Shit, Joe.” 

“I know,” Joe groans.

Booker sits down beside him and takes a swig from his flask. He gestures as if to offer it to Joe, but then seems to remember Joe doesn’t drink.

“I assume the asshole didn’t show up on the date?”

“Not a trace.”

“Shit, Joe,” Booker repeats, with more feeling this time. “So how are you going to tell Andy?”

“I’m not telling her. And you won’t either. Promise me.” He looks at Booker sternly, allowing the heat to course a little more freely inside of him. 

“Alright, alright,” Booker says, “I won’t. No need to do that creepy thing with your eyes.” He takes another sip and shakes his head. “She will find out, though. She always finds out.”

“Not this time she won’t. I’m taking care of it.”

“A bit difficult if the guy has vanished from the face of the earth.”

With a groan, Joe buries his face in his hands. He is so fucked. He feels Booker gently patting him on the back in consolation. But then the hand stills and grabs his shirt, shaking him a little. Joe looks up in confusion.

“He’s always one step ahead of you, right?” Booker asks. “Getting in the way of your jobs?”

“No need to rub it in like that, Booker.”

“No, no, I mean we could take advantage of that. What if we are one step ahead of him for once? We set the bait, lure him in and…” 

He raises his eyebrows meaningfully at Joe.

Joe slowly nods to himself as the meaning of Booker’s words dawns on him. “And then we have him right where we want to. We make him come to us."

“Exactly.” Booker grins, very pleased with himself.

“Sometimes,” Joe says, standing up, “you actually say sensible things, Booker, I’m proud of you. Come on, let’s get to work. We have a Shadow to catch.”

***

The great thing about being a shapeshifter is that you can play a victim, informant and culprit all at the same time. Well, not literally at the same time but enough at the same time to forge a couple of crimes and set up some hooks to dangle in front of justice-hungry superheroes.

Honestly, Yusuf has been a little jealous of Sebastien’s powers on more than one occasion. 

They both forge some news articles and police reports and Sebastien gets them to circulate in superhero circles. Yusuf reaches out to the heroes he knows in the vicinity of the city, reassuring them The Old Guard is already on it to make sure the path will be clear for the Shadow. Even Andy contacts them after getting word of it to take care of it. And if even Andy can't tell it's a scam, they are definitely doing things right.

And so, after two weeks of carefully laying out their trap, it’s time to finally catch their prey.

Yusuf is waiting on the corner of a flat roof, anticipation itching beneath his skin. Sebastien can come running into the alley below any moment now, hopefully with the Shadow on his heels. No, not hopefully. Certainly. Their plan will work. It has to. 

He is not sure how long he’s been standing there, still as a statue, when finally the pounding of hurried footsteps comes rushing down the pavement. Not much later, Yusuf spots Sebastien's transformed shape rounding the corner into the alley. 

Yusuf carefully slinks back, withdrawing from view and hiding away. He hears Sebastien curse as he realises the alley has a dead end, followed by some scuffling and scrambling and then footsteps running up the fire escape of the building Yusuf is on. 

If Sebastien didn’t have his powers, he could have become an actor. His rendition of the oh-shit-I-have-made-everything-worse-and-now-I-have-nowhere-to-go-anymore-culprit is truly masterful. Very true to life.

Sebastien pretends to be too lost in his own despair to notice the shadow coming to life behind him. Yusuf’s treacherous heart makes a somersault in his chest, because he forgot how frustratingly good Nicky looks in his Shadow suit. 

_No, focus. Focus!_

So Yusuf very pointedly does not look at Nicky’s shoulders as he grabs Sebastien from behind. He definitely does not see the way his arm wraps around Sebastien's throat, muscles flexing beneath the thin black fabric. He does not stare at his clenching jaw or the hair falling in his sculpture-like face. Or the way-

“Some help would be welcome now,” Sebastien growls and with a start Yusuf realizes it’s directed at him. 

He hastily stands up and comes out of his hiding place. The confusion on Nicky’s face after Sebastien's words fades as he catches sight of Yusuf, muttering a curse beneath his breath. Sebastien breaks free from his loosened grasp and rubs at his throat.

“What the hell took you so long?” he asks.

Yusuf doesn’t answer. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Nicky. “Don’t even think of it,” he says as soon as he sees the thought of fleeing cross Nicky’s face. “You owe me an explanation.”

“And an apology,” Sebastien remarks, back in his own form. “You simply don’t stand up a guy like him. Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?"

If Nicky is taken aback by his looming figure and the passive-aggressive tone in his voice, he doesn’t let it show. He barely moves at all, his eyes only jump from Yusuf to Sebastien and back, clearly ready to fight if one of them makes a move at him. 

“Thanks, Seb, I’ll handle it from here,” Yusuf says, eyes still fixed on Nicky.

Sebastien nods and with a last, threatening glare at Nicky, he descends the fire escape.

While his footsteps slowly grow fainter and fainter, Yusuf and Nicky stand there staring at each other in absolute silence. Nicky still tense as a bowstring as if he is expecting an attack any moment, Yusuf with crossed arms and his feet planted firmly on the ground. He allows his skin to glow ever so faintly, to remind the man in front of him he’s not the only one with powers.

“So I take it Nicky isn’t your real name?” Yusuf asks eventually.

“No,” Nicky says, his shoulders relaxing fractionally as he realises Yusuf won’t simply storm at him like a crazed bull and propel him off the roof. “It’s Nicolò. You?”

“Yusuf.”

“Yusuf," Nicolò repeats.

Yusuf hates how much he likes the sound of that. 

“So you are the infamous Shadow.”

Even with the mask on, Yusuf can see Nicolò's face scrunch up in confusion. "The Shadow?”

Yusuf considers propelling himself off the roof. “It’s eh… It’s what we call you,” he explains lamely.

“Hm,” Nicolò says, nodding to himself. The tension has completely disappeared from his pose now. “I never had a nickname before.”

“What about Nicky?”

“Pseudonyms don’t count.”

“Why not? They're- no. No, that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that you stole the bracers,” Yusuf says, pointing in accusation. “And not even three days before, you ‘just happened’ to come by our shop. That’s a bit too much of a coincidence, don’t you think? Was that statuette even really a gift for your grandma or was it just a ruse to spy on me?”

Nicolò casts his eyes to the ground, his voice is barely audible as he says, “No, she loved it.”

_Great, Yusuf, now you’re the asshole._ Of course he had known Nicolò hadn’t come to spy on them; his surprise in the museum had been too genuine for that.

“Look,” Yusuf says, rubbing a hand over his face, “it’s very important we bring those bracers back to safety before they fall in the wrong hands. Or well, before the wrong hands can actually do something bad with them. Just tell me where they are and then we can leave this all behind us and go our own ways again.”

At this, Nicolò raises his chin. His jaw is tight and his eyes are piercing through the mask. “How do I know your hands are not the wrong hands?”

Yusuf blinks at him for a moment, because of all things, he didn't expect him to say _that_.

“Because I’m a… a superhero?” He gestures at his own outfit, his mask and tight pants and the sun beaming on his chest. It’s not like he’s wearing this for fun. (Or not only for fun, at least.)

“Many villains are convinced they are the real heroes.”

Yusuf raises his eyebrows and scoffs. “That’s rich coming from you. I’m not the one taking on jobs from some capitalist CEO who wants to extract a dead hero's powers to make a profit.”

“He’s going to extract the powers to save lives, Yusuf.”

“Did he tell you that?” 

“His spokesperson did.”

“Oh, his spokesperson did. I’m sure he is very trustworthy and doesn’t have any secret agendas at all!”

Nicolò’s face darkens, as if a shadow passes over it. “There are good people in this world, Yusuf. And at least like this, the bracers will do some good. What use did they have gathering dust in a museum? And why are they so important to you anyway?”

A sharp sting flashes through Yusuf’s chest as the image of Lykon comes to his mind, yelling at him to run. He clenches his jaw and takes a couple of steps forward so he stands right in front of Nicolò, almost chest to chest. Their height difference is just big enough so he can peer down at him, right into those ocean eyes filled with swirling shadows. 

“It wasn’t Merrick’s right to take them like that,” he says through gritted teeth. 

Nicolò doesn’t back down, he barely even blinks. He meets Yusuf’s glare with a steady gaze of his own. “Some people don’t have powers like us, so they try to make this world a better place in any way they are able to.”

“I know, but Merrick is not one of them,” Yusuf says. He thinks he can see the faintest shiver of doubt run across Nicolò’s face, but it could also be his imagination. It probably is, considering how stubborn Nicolò is in his naivety. “You’re not going to tell me where they are, are you?”

Nicolò’s silence is enough of an answer. A heavy weight of disappointment sinks in Yusuf’s chest. He’d hoped it had all been a misunderstanding. He’d hoped Nicolò would be eager to set things right, maybe even to help him. He’d hoped- 

Why had he hoped at all? Because Nicolò had some pretty eyes and smiled at him once? He feels stupid. Stupid for trusting this stranger, for letting his heart get to his head again. There are good people in this world, Yusuf knows that, but in the end, he’s on his own.

The corners of his mouth quirk up for a second in a sad smile. “I sincerely hope you don’t turn out to be the villain in this, Nicolò.”

With that, he walks past him to the fire escape. He doesn’t hear any movement behind him, but he can feel those stark eyes on his back, following until he disappears out of sight. With heavy feet, he descends and with every step down, it’s as if the cold, dark night sucks a little more sunlight out of him.


	3. sixth floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nicky falls for Joe.

Despite his powers, Nicolò has never thought of himself as a superhero. The word puts too much focus on himself. Whenever he said it out loud to himself in the mirror, it felt uncomfortably self-congratulatory, almost infantile. No, he tries his best to help people with his powers, but he’s no superhero. He’s only an anomaly.

Maybe that’s why he never sought out others like him. The urge has been there, to reach out, to find companionship and talk with people who understand him. But he never felt like there was a place for him among them. So he keeps to his shadows.

He has never doubted that he wants to do (and _is_ doing) good in the world, though. Or at least, he never doubted it until last night. 

_I sincerely hope you don’t turn out to be the villain in this, Nicolò._

Joe, _Yusuf_ , must be mistaking. Maybe he has been let down one time too many in the past which tended a distrust towards powerful people without powers like theirs. Nicolò isn’t one to trust easily either. He is wary of people approaching him for a job, but Copley seemed to genuinely care for other people’s wellbeing, for the betterment of the world and had shown Nicolò the possibilities of this if they succeeded.

The way Yusuf’s face contorted at the question of what the bracers were to him still haunts his mind. The way his voice sounded like burning metal and his-

Now is not the time to think about all that. Nicky shoves the thoughts away along with the writhing discomfort in his chest and focuses on the manuscript before him again. He’s only twenty pages in and he already knows it most certainly won’t get published, but he has to give it a chance. He sighs and firmly keeps his mind from wandering off until the end of his workday.

He manages for two solid minutes. Then his browser magically opens and his fingers are disobediently typing Merrick’s name in the search bar. 

At first, he finds only the usual praise and advertising coverage, highlighting the good the company has done for the pharma world. After a little digging (okay, a good three hours of digging), Nicky's stomach drops when he finds mentions of a scandal two years before. And as he tumbles deeper and deeper in the nets of the world wide web, he finds claims of another and another still. 

“You comin’ down for lunch, Nicky?”

Nicky has a small heart attack as he scrambles to close the page even though his colleague can’t see his screen from the doorway of his small office. 

“Yes, lunch, of course,” he says, feeling mortified and more than slightly guilty he wasted the entire morning on things that had nothing to do with his job. “I lost track of time. I’ll be there in a minute!”

When his colleague is gone, he quickly deletes his browser history after typing some notes on his phone about the scandals to do more research when he’s at home. But only after making up for the lost hours, he tells himself strictly.

And this time, he listens to himself, so it is well after night has fallen that he continues his research. What he finds, makes his skin crawl and a hint of panic coil in his stomach. If the rumors are true, then Merrick is far from the noble entrepreneur he claims to be. 

But Copley had seemed so genuine… Was he just an award-deserving actor or did he not know about all this either? Did Nicky really read him all wrong?

The thought leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. He’d always thought he was a good judge of character and always took pride in his moral compass and principles. But now he had given this dubious figure exactly what he wanted without any questions asked. He should have done this thorough background check first and not let himself be convinced so easily by the first heartfelt story he heard.

And the way he had tried to defend Copley and Merrick to Yusuf…

He buries his face in his hands and groans. Maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t interact with others like him if he’ll make a fool of himself the first chance he gets. Still, if it wasn’t for Yusuf, who knows what else Nicky would have done for people such as Merrick.

He allows himself one more groan, to get the edge off the humiliation pooling in his gut, before closing his laptop and standing up. He has to set this right. He has to apologize to Yusuf and help him in any way he can. If Yusuf allows him, that is.

He changes quickly and disappears into the night. He knows where Yusuf lives from following him on what was supposed to be their date night. He knew it would’ve been smarter to stay home and break all ties with Yusuf after their encounter in the museum, but he couldn’t help himself. On more than a dozen occasions he had almost revealed himself to Yusuf that night, only restraining himself at the last second. 

How much he had wished they could have met as two normal people, maybe then things would have turned out differently. But who knows… maybe not everything is lost. Maybe after everything is smoothed out between them...? No, what was he even thinking? Yusuf probably hates his guts now, and he has every right to. 

He has to take this one step at a time. First, forgiveness.

No. First, getting the chance to explain himself. Small steps.

Yusuf lives on the sixth floor. He knows this because he saw the elevator through the glass front doors, stopping on the sixth floor after Yusuf got in. He does not know which of the many windows is his, however, so he’ll have to investigate first.

He slips from his plain invisible form into a shadow and sneaks up the side of the building. He’s grateful for the darkness of the night, guiding him and granting him strength. By day, it’s infinitely more exhausting to maintain the form, but now it’s as easy as breathing.

On the sixth floor, he circles the building, peeking in through cracks in the curtains. He skirts around three, four, five times without a trace of Yusuf. Maybe he’s in another room? Or out for the night? Maybe on another date with someone who is as handsome as Yusuf himself and hasn’t stolen something that is very precious to him for some hypocritical pharma CEO. 

Why does the thought of another date make his heart so heavy?

But he has no time to dwell on it any longer, because a light flicks on inside the window he’s hanging from. His eyes widen as they catch sight of familiar curls.

For a moment, all thoughts leave Nicolò as he watches Yusuf walk over to the fridge, opening it and _bending over with his back to Nicolò_ to look inside. His heart forgets to beat a couple of seconds and that’s enough of an answer to his earlier question, isn’t it?

_Oh, Nicolò, you’re in too deep now._

Still, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment to get a grip on himself again. It’s useless to think about that right now. Or ever, probably. He’s here to make amends. 

When he opens his eyes again, Yusuf is leaning with his back against the counter, waiting for something that’s inside the microwave. Nicolò allows himself a second longer to admire his profile -his elegant nose, his curls falling a little over his forehead, the shape of his well-maintained beard. He lifts his shadowy arm to gently knock on the window, but something stays his hand.

It is Yusuf staring down at his own flexing hand which slowly lights up. He closes his eyes after a while as the brightness spreads over his skin. It’s the most beautiful sight Nicolò has ever seen; the light dances across his fingers and arms, flowing like veins of lava. But it’s visible for only a second, because soon the brightness takes over like solar winds. Nicolò tries to fight the burning in his eyes because he wants to watch this forever, but before long he has to avert his gaze. 

Only to see his hand appear on the window ledge. Not a shadow, but his real, tangible hand. And suddenly he is heavy again and holding himself up with only one arm. Before he can recover from the shock and grab onto something with his other arm, his hand slips and with a yelp, he plummets down. 

His arms flail in empty air. He desperately seeks for shadows, tries to grab on to them but it’s not working for some reason. And he keeps falling and falling and this will be the way he dies. Smashing on the pavement in front of the building of the most handsome man he has ever seen who thinks he is the worst human being in the world. At least the last thing he saw, was also the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. So he closes his eyes so as not to ruin that image and braces himself for impact.

But it never comes. 

Instead, there’s a yank on his arm that almost dislocates his shoulder. The sudden change in speed turns his stomach upside down. He opens his eyes to his feet dangling in the air, probably two floors up. 

He lifts his head and if a warm hand wasn’t so tightly locked around his wrist, he would have let himself fall again from utter shock because his savior is none other than Yusuf. 

He seems about as surprised as Nicolò as they dangle there from a ledge. 

Then Yusuf turns his head to the window next to them and his fingers dig a little deeper in Nicolò’s skin.

Nicolò follows his gaze. 

From the apartment, an old lady is staring at them with her mouth wide open. Even the three cats are staring at them.

“Great,” Yusuf says through clenched teeth and Nicolò’s eyes dart back at him to find a strained smile on his face directed at the lady. “Now I’ve got to look for a new apartment.”

***

“Sugar or honey?”

“Neither, thank you.”

Yusuf puts the two cups of tea on the table and sits down opposite of Nicolò. Nicolò busies himself by stirring his tea. For what feels like endless minutes, the only sound is the tinkling of his spoon against the ceramic and the heavy ticking of the grandfather clock. It must be one from the antique shop, and judging by the furtive glance Nicolò had dared to cast at it, someone painted it with a geometric pattern. Nicolò guesses Yusuf has done so himself. His whole place is an artistically justified jumble not unlike the antique shop but somehow infinitely more tasteful. 

Not that he dares to look around much. He keeps his eyes fixed on his cup. He brings it to his lips even though he knows it’s still scalding, but he simply can’t stand the silence and can’t bring himself to speak either. Surely enough, he burns his lips and the tip of his tongue. He tries to school his expression and gently sets the cup down again as if nothing is amiss. 

Yusuf takes a long sip of his own tea, unbothered by the absolutely undrinkable heat of it. Then, he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. He purses his lips and raises an eyebrow at Nicolò.

“So, are you going to tell me why you were falling from my apartment building on this fine Thursday night?”

Nicolò considers taking another sip. Maybe it will burn his tongue enough so he doesn’t have to talk.

_Stop being so ridiculous, Nicolò._

He takes a deep breath and meets Yusuf’s - very beautifully displeased - eyes.

“I wanted to apologize.”

“By jumping from my window?” Yusuf frowns.

Nicolò cringes ever so slightly. “That was an accident, I’m sorry. And thank you for… catching me.” His mouth twitches in a hesitant smile.

“No need to thank me.” Yusuf’s fingers make a dismissive gesture on his bicep. “Saving people who make poor life choices is in the job description.”

“Well, my poor life choices are exactly why I’m here. You were right, Yusuf. I did some research on Merrick and I have reason to believe he is not at all the person he claims to be. I should have believed you, I’m sorry.”

His eyes are fixed on his hands, but when it stays silent, he dares a glance at Yusuf. He’s considering Nicolò with a furrowed brow. 

“I want to help you get the bracers back,” Nicolò says.

“And how can I be sure I can trust you?” Yusuf asks. “Who’s to say you’re not still in Merrick’s employment to eliminate me and get hold of my powers as well?”

It only makes sense for Yusuf to be distrustful. After all, Nicolò has stolen the bracers even though Yusuf was clearly protecting them, has stood him up and ignored him until Yusuf had caught him, and even then he’d refused to see reason. Still, that Yusuf would think such a thing of him stings in his chest.

“You can’t be sure,” Nicolò says in all honesty. He holds Yusuf’s hard gaze. "But I'll do everything I can to prove it to you."

While the clock ticks the seconds away, Nicolò grows more and more convinced Yusuf will tell him to get out of his house and to never reach out to him ever again. 

“Do you know where Merrick is?” Yusuf asks instead.

“No,” Nicolò admits. “I met with Copley, his informant, in a café. But perhaps I can track him down, shadow him and see if he leads us to Merrick.”

Yusuf nods to himself, staring at a point over Nicolò’s shoulders as he considers it. Then he takes a sip from his tea.

“We’ll need to learn how to work together,” he says as he sets the cup back down and Nicolò can hardly believe what he’s hearing. “I can only imagine Merrick’s quarters will be heavily guarded, so we can’t afford any mistakes. We need to be attuned, synchronized. So here’s what we’ll do: we’ll take on some jobs together and train together in between. It gives us the chance to figure out the best tactic.”

_And it allows me to figure out if I can trust you,_ is what Yusuf doesn’t say, but Nicolò can hear it in his voice easily enough.

It is more than Nicolò had dared to dream of after how much he screwed everything up. First in the museum and on the roof, and then today... He slowly lets out his breath.

“And,” Yusuf adds and Nicolò freezes. “You are going to help me move.”

Despite everything, Nicolò laughs. “I thought we were pretty convincing to the lady. And the cats seemed to believe us too.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” Yusuf says and hides his involuntary smile behind his cup of tea. 

To Nicolò, it feels like a small victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't try this at home unless you have a superhero crush to catch you!


	4. the mall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Joe and Nicky go to the mall and have some bandaging/bonding time in a bathroom.

Working together with Nicolò proved to be… a challenge. The training went relatively well, and if Yusuf wasn’t watchful, he even found himself enjoying their sparring. Of course, seeing Nicolò all flushed and panting afterwards did play a part in that as well. Yusuf has always been one to appreciate the finer things in life.

The actual jobs were a whole different story, though. They had been doing jobs together for the past month, but every single time, something _had_ to go wrong. Be it due to miscommunication or forgetfulness or sometimes plain clumsiness. They managed to bring most cases to a successful end eventually, but they could have achieved that result in at least ten more ideal and satisfying ways.

It never failed to get under Yusuf’s skin, leaving him irritable and frustrated. It didn’t exactly help to ease the suspicion he felt towards Nicolò either, even though he knew deep down that his distrust lay at the root of their failures as well.

But this time, everything would go as planned. They had gone over it a million times. Nicolò had scouted the abandoned shopping mall to discover the exact location of the bombs the villain was making, and they planned everything accordingly, down to the smallest detail. Nothing could go wrong.

And nothing has gone wrong so far. 

Nicolò is five steps ahead of him in shadow-form, signalling if the coast is clear as they make their way through the mall. Yusuf sneaks after him, seeking cover wherever he can. He is hiding behind a bin, waiting for Nicolò who has disappeared around the corner, when he hears shuffling from the stairwell to his left. 

Yusuf catches sight of two alarmed eyes in the dark. There’s a sharp intake of breath followed by rapid footsteps.

Yusuf curses under his breath and runs after the villain. He frowns as he hears the footsteps running up. Where is he running off to? Are the bombs upstairs after all? Nicolò had told him they were in the back on the ground floor, so that couldn’t be his destination.

Unless Nicolò lied to him.

Yusuf clenches his teeth and forcefully pushes the thoughts aside. He’ll take care of that later.

He sprints up the stairs, not for the first time wishing he’d also gotten the sun’s speed of light in his goody bag of powers. But he'll make do with superheroic adrenaline. Soon enough, he sees the villain’s feet. 

He doesn’t see the empty crate, however. Not until it’s lunged towards him, forcing him to jump out of the way. When it has clattered past, and Yusuf has regained his balance, the villain is nowhere in sight. 

But he can’t be far. 

It is eerily quiet in the dark stairwell and Yusuf makes sure not to disturb the silence. He climbs the stairs to the next landing. A door to his right leads into a dark corridor. He glances around the stairwell once more to see if his target isn’t hiding somewhere in the shadows, before cautiously walking through the doorway. 

The door slams shut in his face, but he’s quick enough to jump a step backwards. Someone is sprinting away on the other side. Yusuf grits his teeth as he yanks the door open and gives chase.

He doesn’t slow down when the darkness surrounds him, lets the footsteps guide him. He rounds a corner -only barely avoiding faceplanting into the wall-, and finally sees the villain's silhouette outlined by the light pouring through a doorway at the end of the corridor. 

He picks up his pace when the man disappears in the room beyond.

He is so focused on catching up with his target that he forgets to consider the possibility he doesn’t keep running from him forever. He only realizes his mistake when a knife pierces his side and he cries out. 

He wheels around. His fist meets the villain’s jaw and the man almost stumbles, but he recovers too fast for Yusuf to land another punch, ducking just out of the way. Yusuf lifts his foot so the man trips, but he’s able to grab Yusuf’s shirt so they both crash to the ground. 

They wrestle and struggle and Yusuf is able to land some well-aimed punches, gaining the upper hand. But then his enemy hits the wound in his side and Yusuf screams, loosening his grip for a second. The man takes his chance and rolls them around. He grabs the front of Yusuf’s shirt and knocks him so hard to the ground that white flashes blind Yusuf’s vision. 

The next thing he knows there are two hands around his throat and no air filling his lungs. He thrashes, clawing at the hands to break free but their grip is like iron. 

Iron, however, can melt. 

Yusuf unleashes all the heat inside of him. His burning singes the wound in his side, but he bites through the pain. All he needs is air. The villain groans but doesn’t let go. He is wearing some kind of gloves and a special suit, probably heat-resistant to a degree. Yusuf tries increasing his temperature even more, but there is not enough air. Dark blotches are dancing in front of his eyes and he can feel his mind starting to slip away from him.

One of the dark blotches slips around the villain’s throat and suddenly the grip on Yusuf’s is gone. He gulps in lungfuls of air, falling into a coughing fit a second later.

When it has passed and Yusuf has come to himself again, the villain is lying unconscious on the floor and Nicolò kneels beside Yusuf, his eyebrows drawn together in worry.

“Are you alright?” he asks. He touches Yusuf’s shoulder, but instantly pulls away because the heat hasn’t yet left Yusuf entirely. His eyes search his body and widen as they catch the blood on his side. “You’re hurt-”

“I’m fine,” Yusuf croaks out, swatting Nicolò’s hand away as it reaches for his side. “I had everything under control.”

There’s a stunned pause and truly, Nicolò’s eyes can be very unsettling when he’s staring so unblinkingly. 

“You call that everything under control?” The disbelief in Nicolò's voice is almost tangible. “Yusuf, you nearly choked.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Yes, because _I_ was there to get him off of you.”

“I could’ve handled him,” Yusuf says, standing up and wincing at the pain shooting through his side. 

“Clearly,” Nicolò remarks dryly, his eyes dark.

“Yes, clearly. You should have just stuck to the plan and dismantle the bombs.”

Nicolò scoffs, standing up as well. “I should have stuck to the plan? May I remind you I was not the one running off in the middle of our plan to God knows where?”

“What did I have to do? Let him get away so he could make even more bombs?”

“No, but you could’ve warned me!”

“And betray my position _and_ the fact that I wasn’t alone?”

“God, Yusuf!” Nicolò groans. “Why are you being so insufferable? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but if it wasn’t for me, you could’ve- could’ve been-”

“But I’m not.”

They glare at each other and the air around them is tight as a bowstring. Yusuf tries his best to not wheeze too much. 

Nicolò is the first to look away, shaking his head. He turns away from Yusuf. “Let’s focus on finishing-”

He stops mid-sentence.

Yusuf cranes his neck to see what Nicolò is staring at. His stomach drops. The villain is gone. In his place, there’s a timer.

A timer with not even three minutes left. 

Nicolò meets Yusuf's eyes, his own wide with horror. There is no doubt about what this means. In three minutes, this whole building will blow up. All Yusuf can see is another building, burning and groaning and crumbling down. Familiar, determined eyes. A voice screaming at him to get away, to-

“Run!” Nicolò yells. He grabs Yusuf’s hand and pulls him along when Yusuf is still standing in a daze. “Yusuf, run!”

Yusuf’s legs start moving, following Nicolò. They dash down the flights of stairs. Yusuf is already panting for breath and he can’t seem to get enough air inside his lungs. The wound in his side is throbbing. Nicolò doesn’t let go of his hand and tows him with him.

How much time do they have left?

“The exit is the other way,” Yusuf pants out as Nicolò leads him in the wrong direction. 

“We don’t have time for the exit.”

Nicolò lets go of Yusuf’s hand and picks up a stone from some rubble. He throws it through the first window they pass and pulls his sleeve over his hands to feverishly push out the biggest remaining shards of glass. Yusuf helps him, his heart pounding in his ears. 

Any moment now.

Nicolò helps Yusuf through first and swiftly jumps after him. They run and Yusuf is genuinely surprised they are not torn to pieces already. They still have some way to go before being completely out of the blast’s reach, though. 

“Nicolò, go!” he gets out, because Nicolò is obviously holding back so he can keep up. “Get yourself to safety! Go in your shadow-fo-”

The world explodes behind them with a force that knocks them face down to the ground, but not before Yusuf lunges to cover Nicolò. 

For what feels like an eternity, there is nothing but white noise and smoke. Then, the sensation of falling debris on his back and a body beneath him. After a while, the debris stops falling and the noise subsides slowly. The sound of panting comes through to him, in rhythm with the breath on his cheek. 

When he is certain the coast is clear, he rolls off of Nicolò with a groan. He squeezes his eyes shut against the world spinning around him and to try and ease the headache that’s cracking his skull in two.

He reaches blindly for Nicolò’s hand and squeezes it. Some of the pain melts away as he feels it squeezing back.

***

“This might sting a little.”

“I can handle a little antiseptic, I’m not a-” Yusuf screws his lips tightly shut to keep himself from hissing. 

Nicolò’s eyes dart up to Yusuf’s face but he doesn’t say anything. Yusuf lets his breath escape slowly. He relaxes his fingers where they involuntarily tightened their hold on Nicolò’s shoulder.

It’s silent in Nicolò’s small, stark bathroom while he dips at Yusuf’s wound. A silence that, after the hectic need to get away, make sure the other was fine and take care of Yusuf’s injuries, finally allows for the events to sink in. They fill up the room until every crook and corner is crammed with them, turning the air to lead.

Yusuf’s powers will speed up the healing process luckily. And the wound closed a little already while he was burning himself up to ward off the villain. It still hurts like hell, though. Especially now the adrenaline has worn off and the exhaustion is kicking in.

He watches Nicolò work, his face unreadable in his concentration. There are still fragments of plaster in his dusty hair and he has a cut on the bridge of his nose and a bruise blooming on his cheekbone. Yusuf stifles the urge to move his hand from his shoulder to his cheek to stroke the tender skin. 

Nicolò doesn’t seem to notice him staring, doesn’t even seem to know he himself is injured as well. He is solely focused on tending to Yusuf’s side. His fingers are careful yet precise and swift. As if he has done it a hundred times before. 

After applying a bandage around Yusuf’s torso, Nicolò leans back. Yusuf draws his hand back from his shoulder.

“That should do it,” Nicolò says as he puts some things away in his well equipped first aid kit. “It’ll probably be a scar, though.” His fingers linger on the bandage a moment longer, considering it as if he’s still thinking of a way how he could prevent that. 

“That’s fine,” Yusuf reassures him. “Thank you.”

Nicolò nods and stands up to wash his hands in the sink. “You’re welcome.”

“And also for…” Yusuf pauses, watching Nicolò’s back. “Also for what you did back there. For saving my life.”

Nicolò doesn’t answer. He holds a washing cloth beneath the water and goes to sit in front of Yusuf again. To Yusuf’s surprise, he lifts the washing cloth as if he’s going to wash Yusuf’s face. Yusuf gently stops him and takes the washing cloth from him.

“You’re hurt, too,” he says as he softly dips the cloth against Nicolò’s bruised cheek, meanwhile searching his face for any reaction to his earlier words.

Nicolò winces a little beneath his touch. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Yusuf's mouth quirks up in a small, apologizing smile as he cleans Nicolò’s face.

“But I guess we are even,” Nicolò says, looking at a point behind Yusuf. “On the life saving thing.”

“Huh?” Yusuf asks, too focused on applying the antiseptic to the cuts in Nicolò’s face as gently as possible, because he knows from experience it stings more than 'a little'.

“The explosion,” is all Nicolò says.

Yusuf knows what he means nonetheless. How he lunged for Nicolò and shielded him with his own body. 

“I have this nice ability called heat resistance.” Yusuf tries his best to sound lighthearted. “Better that I take the heat of the explosion than you.”

Yusuf is careful to get all the dirt from Nicolò’s face, gentle fingers on his jawline to hold him in place. Nicolò lets him and closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry too,” Yusuf says and it’s barely above a whisper. “For running off without you and then being angry with you for rescuing me.”

The shame burns hot in his chest and cheeks. Now that it's all over, he understands why he’d lashed out at Nicolò the way he did, and he’s all but proud of it. He simply hadn’t been able to swallow the fact that Nicolò had once again succeeded where he himself had failed. That he had been better yet again. He had been annoyed and jealous and stupid. So incredibly stupid. As if being a hero had to be a competition, even when they were supposed to be working together. 

This time, Yusuf has only himself to blame that things blew up. Quite literally so.

“Apology accepted,” Nicolò says, opening his mesmerizing eyes. The slightest of smiles appears around his mouth. Yusuf smiles back in gratitude. "If-" and at this, Yusuf's smile falls "-I can take you out on a date again."

Despite everything, Yusuf laughs. And even though his heart flutters, he says, "Don't push it, Shadow."

That makes Nicolò chuckle too.

When Yusuf is finished, Nicolò goes to take another washing cloth to clean Yusuf’s face now. The silence is less crammed now, the air easier to breathe. 

“I still do wonder one thing, though,” Nicolò says after a while.

Yusuf frowns his eyebrows inquisitively.

“When we noticed the timer, you didn’t run. You just… stood there, completely frozen. Oh, I’m sorry,” Nicolò adds when he notices Yusuf tensing up. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Yusuf counts to ten and forces his muscles to relax. “No, it’s- it’s okay.” He takes a deep breath. “That night on the roof. You asked me why the bracers were so important to me.”

Nicolò’s fingers still where they had been plucking debris from Yusuf’s beard and curls. 

“They belonged to a friend of mine,” Yusuf continues. Although ‘friend’ doesn’t exactly cover the profound bond they'd shared. More like family. Like all of The Old Guard. “His name was Lykon. We were on this job, with the rest of my team as well, but we were split into two groups. It was a hostage situation and we managed to eliminate the captors. Or so we thought. When we were freeing the hostages, one must have escaped. We didn’t even know what was happening until there was a loud bang in the basement and the building was shaking on its foundations. We evacuated the hostages as fast as we could, but they were weakened and wounded and we had taken some blows as well. And then Lykon managed to find an escape route, but he had to hold it up because it was about to collapse any second. His arms…” Yusuf holds his own arms up in the same position as Lykon so many years ago. He doesn’t even feel the sharp pull in his side at the movement. “They were trembling beneath the weight. And he urged everyone on. I was the last one and I hesitated, waiting for him to follow, but he told me to get away. To run. So I ran. Not two seconds after I was outside, the hallway collapsed.”

Behind his closed eyelids, Yusuf sees it all playing out again. How he screamed and ran back. Booker restraining him, telling him it was still too dangerous and so many other things he didn't want to listen to. How he tried to fight Booker to get free, to get to him, to save him, to do _anything_.

What if he hadn't hesitated? What if he'd helped him, what if he-

There's a hand on his knee, squeezing gently. He lets out the breath he was holding and unclenches his jaw. He stares at his own hands in his lap, at Nicolò's broad hand resting on his leg.

"We went back to find him. There was nothing we could do. It was-" he stops himself, shaking his head. He takes a shuddering breath. He gestures at his forearms. "We retrieved his bracers. And gave it to the museum, because they would be safest there. Or that was what we thought, anyway."

He glances up to find Nicolò's face pulled in horror and shock, all color drained from it.

"Yusuf, I-" Nicolò takes his hand from Yusuf's knee as if he burned it, though Yusuf has his heat completely under control. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

Yusuf shrugs half-heartedly. But his shoulders keep shaking for some reason. And then there are drops falling on his hands in his lap and it takes him a while to realize they are his own tears and they're not dripping from a leak in the roof.

And then Nicolò's arms are around him. Yusuf lets himself be pulled in and buries his face in the crook of Nicolò's neck while his shoulders keep shuddering and his eyes keep leaking tears.

"I'm getting them back for you," Nicolò mutters in his ear. "Whatever it takes." His arms tighten around Yusuf. "Whatever it takes."


End file.
